The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 4-6 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set Book 2)

by John W. Mefford

  She waved a hand in our direction, then glanced up and down the street, appearing to ponder her next move.

  “Candy, can you at least show that picture around?”

  “I’ll do it.” Then she started jogging precariously in four-inch heels back to the main road, waving and yelling at a passing car.

  15

  With my back pressed against a brick wall that sagged slightly and Terri to my left, I hunched down and peered into the motel office. One man stood behind the counter. He wore a sun visor, and I could see his balding head as he leaned on the counter, flipping through a magazine.

  The motel was L-shaped, with the office protruding off the front section closest to the street. I nodded at Terri, and she shuffled to the rear of the small office building and looked through a covered walkway back into the teeth of the motel. On our first pass driving by, we had seen a handful of cars, a few people going in and out of rooms, mostly in the west corner. The occupants didn’t look like they were tourists. We knew we couldn’t just walk up and ask for Crack Daddy’s room, certainly not without some type of warning reaching our suspect before we could reach him. We needed to mitigate that risk.

  “We’re good,” Terri whispered as she pulled up just behind me. That meant no one was heading toward the office.

  Keeping my back against the wall, I whipped around the side and walked through the front doorway, which gave off a cheap chime that sounded like the batteries needed changing. Terri followed a few feet behind me.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked with little enthusiasm, his eyes still scanning his magazine.

  As I approached the counter, he lifted his eyes and saw the two of us. His hand subtly dropped from his chin, and he began to reach under the counter.

  A split second later, my Glock was an inch from his nose. “You touch that button, and I pull the trigger.”

  “Hey, lady, I’m just scratching my leg. No worries, lady.” He quickly brought both hands above his head, which raised his T-shirt, exposing a flabby, hairy belly.

  “That’s obscene. Lower your hands. Just a little.”

  Terri moved behind the counter, taking out two plastic cuffs. She grabbed the clerk’s arms and pulled them to his back. I could hear the plastic cuff tighten with a zipper sound. She leaned down to look under the counter.

  “Nice.”

  “What do you see?”

  “A shitload of porn mags. I’m not touching those.”

  The man snickered, showing off a set of teeth that looked like they were covered with mold.

  “What else?” I asked.

  “There’s a light switch with a small, clear lightbulb mounted next to it. Then there’s a wire that runs out from under the plate and goes over to the wall—you can see it here, running into the ceiling.” She pointed at it.

  Placing my gun behind my back, I pulled my eyes away and peered through a broken, plastic blind to see a man holding a girl by the arm as he walked her up the black metal steps to the second floor. She stumbled once, then he yanked her back to her feet and they continued up the stairs.

  “Need to know if Crack Daddy is here,” I said, turning back to the man, who had a scraggily beard and looked to be no more than thirty.

  He shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

  Terri moved to within a foot of his face. “We can shut this whole place down with one phone call.”

  “You think I’m stupid? This is America, last I checked. You’re all hot air, just to impede on people’s civil rights. So, I know you’re full of shit.”

  He had experience at being arrested.

  “You really want to call our bluff?” I asked.

  “I don’t own this place. I just work here.”

  Terri jumped in. “I bet you make some pretty good side money by feeding information to Crack Daddy and his gang, right? Or do you just sit around and whack off to your cartoon porno mags and eat Big Macs all night, completely oblivious to the drug-dealing and pimping that goes on around here?”

  “Neither. I just do my job. Nothing more, nothing less.” He pretended to yawn, showing off those gnarly teeth again.

  I took two steps and placed my pistol on the counter, the barrel pointing at the slimy punk. “We need to talk to Crack Daddy. You can either tell us where he is, or we will call in about forty cops. Your place will be shut down, and charges could go against you for allowing this shit to go down with your knowledge.”

  “Eh, I’ll be out by tomorrow working at another motel. That’s how I roll.” He chuckled again, and this time spit flew out of his mouth.

  “You are fucking nasty,” Terri said.

  He laughed even harder.

  “One more thing, clerk boy,” I said. “When we find Crack Daddy, we’re going to make sure he understands that you were the one who called the cops and told them to come clean the place up. You and you only.”

  His left eye twitched, and I could see a gulley take shape between his eyes.

  “And if you don’t think I’ll do it, then you don’t know how I roll.”

  Terri produced her phone and held her finger just above the screen. “Your call.”

  “Okay, okay. He’s in room 225, but that opens into 224 and 223.”

  “Is he carrying?”

  “You kidding me? Who isn’t around here? What do you think this is…church?”

  “How many guys are in his group?”

  “It varies, depends who’s out making runs. Anywhere from four to ten can be in the rooms. He keeps girls in there too.”

  “Good boy. For that, we’re just going to keep you tied up until we’re all done.”

  Terri grabbed his wrists, moved him against a door, and zip-tied his hands to the doorknob.

  “Dammit. You really going to treat me like an animal? You know I could file charges. Where’s your warrant, bitches?”

  “Such a foul mouth,” I said.

  Terri took a bandana from her pocket, twirled it until it was taut like a rope, then pulled it tight around his mouth and head. “That should shut you up for a while.”

  He grunted out indecipherable words, lunging at Terri. She shoved her elbow square in his gut. His grunts became moans.

  “Don’t complain, dude. If Crack Daddy or one of his boys sees you tied up, then you’re probably safe.”

  I felt a buzz in my pocket. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Gretchen.

  Crack Daddy aka Jasper Finley. Two convictions for drug dealing, one for assault of a woman. See mug shot.

  “Let’s roll,” I said to Terri.

  I filled her in on Finley’s background and let her take a look at his mug shot as we made our way around the back of the motel. We found three guys sleeping in a van, but the set of stairs we were hoping to use were under construction. We were left with no other option than to use the stairs on the front side. I knew we were taking a risk by not having backup, but I also believed that bringing in the cavalry might put not only a lockdown on the complex but also on everyone’s ability to recall facts. Quick and bold—that was the best approach to penetrating enemy territory.

  Marching around the front, I took the lead, with Terri ensuring we wouldn’t be ambushed from behind. We passed a man and woman mugging down on the hood of a Monte Carlo. In normal circumstances, I would have said something. But this time, I kept my mouth shut and my eyes in scan mode.

  “Ooo-wee, lookee what we have here.” A man came out from an open door on the ground floor. He was shirtless, a tattoo of wings on his chest. As we moved closer to make our way to the steps, he flexed his pecs to the beat of some rap tune emanating from inside his room. Impressive, even for a thug.

  I hooked my hand around the railing and ascended the stairs, taking a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure Terri was right behind me. She was, although I noticed another man in a wifebeater approaching her. He had his hands extended, as if he meant to touch her…or worse.

  “You two fine crackers are just going to dis us like that? That’s plain-ass r
ude from where I come from.”

  The bare-chested man also walked closer.

  I stopped and stared down the two punks, then grabbed Terri by the shoulder. She moved up next to me on the fifth stair. The dude in the wifebeater stopped at the bottom of the stairs, ogling every last inch of Terri and then me. “Oh, the silent treatment. Yeah, Jerome, we’re used to getting that from our bitches,” the man said, his pecs pulsating like they had a mind of their own.

  The other guy proved he could speak English…well, sort of. “Damn straight. We experts on knowing how to fix shit like that. That’s right. Because we all know what a woman is supposed to do in this world. Know what I’m saying?”

  They started chuckling, and they gave each other one of those bro handshakes. A second later, another one wearing a do-rag with a skull and crossbones on the side sauntered up, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He dragged his high-tops on the pavement, and I could only see slits for eyes. Then, five, six, seven more just like them, maybe a slightly different flavor, materialized out of rooms or from under the staircase—it was hard to say. They had multiplied like cockroaches.

  Terri and I continued to back our way up the stairs. I didn’t want to draw my gun, but if our lives were threatened I’d have no other choice. But I also knew we’d probably lose what little chance we had of having a sane conversation with Finley if the situation became escalated. We made it to the first landing, and I allowed myself to take in a breath.

  That was too soon.

  The skinny kid, Skull and Crossbones, had a sudden burst of energy, clapping his hands, shouting to the entire outdoor crew, “It’s time to party everyone, and you can’t throw a party with a bunch of butt munchers. Fine wine has arrived, and we need to pop the cork and start drinking.” He quickly hopped up four steps.

  Terri reached for her weapon, but I grabbed her wrist, then stomped down three steps and stuck my creds a foot from the face of Skull and Crossbones. “FBI, asshole. You leave us the fuck alone, or I’ll throw you in federal prison where you’ll be taught how to act like a real man.”

  His cigarette dropped from his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. I looked over his shoulder. I’d drawn the attention of everyone in the area, the music thumping in the background. I backed up one step and then another, my sights scanning the group. An arm moved, and I jerked my head to the right, where one of the roaches was pulling a phone out of his pocket.

  “You, with the butt chin, put your phone back in your pocket and keep your hands where I can see them.”

  He complied, and then Terri and I continued our ascension. Near the top of the stairs I leaned down.

  “We’re going to go have a conversation, nothing more and nothing less. We don’t want any trouble, and we’re not trying to interrupt your lifestyle. But just know that when we’re not out here ensuring you’re behaving, I have two teams with eyes on you.”

  “Fuck you do,” someone said from the group.

  “I don’t see shit,” Pecs said.

  I turned to look at the one with all the muscles. “That’s the point. If you saw them, then that wouldn’t help us a whole lot. But that shouldn’t matter. If you’re cool, then it’s just a normal night. But if you cross the line, the sky will collapse on you and your lives will never be the same.”

  A few mumbles, but no outright dissension. We made it to the top, Terri now in the lead and me keeping an eye on the group below. They had started to move about and talk, and I didn’t see any of them reaching for a weapon or phone. But I knew there were no guarantees.

  “Nice bluff,” Terri whispered.

  “It’s not my strong suit. I had to imagine they were actually out there taking aim on this group.”

  “Method acting. I like it.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. She had my sense of humor.

  Terri reached 225, and I took one last look over the railing. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior.

  “They could have warned Finley.”

  Terri put her hand on the doorknob and slowly twisted it. “I know. That’s why I’m not knocking.”

  She pushed the door open, and we walked in, my fingers on the handle of my Glock, but still holstered. Smoke glowed from the soft lighting in the room. I knew the smell, and it wasn’t cigarettes. Off in one corner, a guy and girl were rubbing all over each other, half clothed. They stopped for a moment, glanced our way, but then went back at it.

  I could hear voices and more music, but this wasn’t rap. I heard horns and an orchestra. As I turned to my left, I noticed a set of black, velvet curtains. I scanned our area, probably the original room 225. There were three beds—one containing the half-naked couple, and two more that were unoccupied, only a pile of white sheets on top of bare mattresses.

  Bringing a hand to the edge of the curtains, I locked eyes with Terri. This time, she pulled out her sidearm, the Sig Sauer P226. I kept my Glock holstered, but my hand now had a firm hold on the grip. I mouthed a countdown…three, two, one. Then I threw open the curtain.

  “What the fuck?” a guy said. He and another guy were sitting on a couch, hovering over a pile of blow on a coffee table. Another guy wearing a Celtics cap sat at a card table filled with stacks of cash two feet high. Off to my right, a woman had quickly covered herself. She was sitting on top of another man with a flat-top fro and one gold tooth. They were cozied up on a La-Z-Boy.

  “Crack Daddy. Nice to meet you.”

  He didn’t scramble to pull up his jeans. He just sat in his recliner with the girl on his lap, thankfully covering just enough to not give us nightmares. He reached over to a table, picked up a bottle of what looked like champagne, and took a swig.

  “What you bitches want?” He couldn’t have been more relaxed if he were taking a stroll through the park.

  “Quit calling me a bitch, for starters,” Terri said, her gun still raised at the boys on the left side of the room.

  “Ha, you’re pretty fucking funny,” he said, setting the bottle back on the table. It clanged extra hard, which told me his faculties were off. He was probably high.

  Just then I heard a snort, and I turned my head to see this twerp with his nose running across a glass plate, sucking in white powder.

  “You stupid sonofa—” Terri grabbed the plate and dumped it on the floor, although I saw another bag of white powder next to Crack Daddy’s chair.

  One of the guys jumped on the mass of powder on the ground. “No, no, you can’t throw it away.”

  Terri nudged him with her knee, her gun aimed right at his head. “Back on the couch, shitface.” He crawled back on the couch, next to his partner.

  I glanced over at the guy at the money table. He wore black-rimmed glasses and had a ten-key machine at the edge of the table. He seemed a bit nerdy, with a neat, collared shirt and jeans that actually fit him. He spoke not a word.

  I said, “While it’s very enticing for us to focus on what we see before us—”

  Terri jumped in. “I could probably come up with five or six felony charges without much thought.”

  “That’s not our focus, not unless you want us to focus on that.”

  “I don’t want to go to jail. I just need my coke, and I’m a happy man,” the guy on the couch said.

  “Stop being a bitch and act like a man,” Finley said.

  Terri motioned with her gun at the desperate guy on the couch, “Get up and get against the wall.”

  He began to whimper.

  “Do it. Now.”

  He staggered to the wall and put his hands against it. I pulled out my gun as Terri holstered hers. She kicked his feet apart and proceeded to pat him down. Turning back to me, she said, “Clean.”

  He brought his hands to his back, mumbling words I couldn’t understand.

  “Get out of here.”

  “What? You’re letting me go?” He turned and wiped his eyes, his face ashen.

  “Yes. Leave this place and don’t come back. Got it?”

  “Yes sir. I mean, ma’a
m.” He scooted past Terri and then nearly ran into me, his balance obviously skewed.

  Terri pulled her gun back out as I checked to make sure the man exited room 225. He did. I also noticed the couple was still doing their lip-lock thing in the corner bed.

  “Okay, Finley, we need to talk. You want an audience?”

  “What’s the big secret?”

  I looked at Terri, then back at Finley, who grabbed his bottle of champagne and took another gulp. His girl grabbed it from his hand and tipped her head back. Some of the liquid dribbled down her chin and onto her pink robe so sheer you could see her skin.

  “A girl died two nights ago.” I paused for a moment and watched his eyes shift upward to his girl. She didn’t act like she heard me.

  “The girl who died was one of your girls.”

  Now the girl looked my way. “What did you just say?”

  “I said one of your boyfriend’s girls died two nights ago.”

  Suddenly agitated, Finley tried to sit up, grabbing at his pants, and the girl fell to the floor. I leaned down to help her up while keeping an eye on Finley. He scooped his pants back on.

  “Sit back down,” Terri said, now aiming her Sig at him.

  I found a bath towel over another chair and tossed it to the girl. “You got clothes?”

  “They’re around here somewhere. Anyone know where I put those clothes?”

  Finley brought his hand to his head. He seemed annoyed, possibly at his girl, definitely at us. I noticed he had four gold rings on that hand.

  “Over here.” The nerd finally spoke, although he had a meek voice.

  The girl wrapped the towel around herself, picked up her clothes, then stood behind the nerd and slipped a dress over her head.

  “You can sit on the floor,” Terri said to the girl. She complied, although her lower lip protruded, pouting. “Finley, we need information. If you don’t give us what we want, then we shut down your entire operation.”

  “Don’t call me Finley. You’re going to ruin my street cred.”

  “We don’t give a shit. Answer our questions and you might have a little street cred left.”